


Ora Sono Pronto

by Nemamka



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Crying, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Katsuki Yuuri, a few strong words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 06:35:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9871754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemamka/pseuds/Nemamka
Summary: AU where it's not Yurio who finds Yuuri crying in the bathroom.You know where this is going, because I tagged it with crying and fluff. That's it, that's the fic kill meI am also a big fat liar and I'm going to fail university but YOI gives me a will to live so???+ Somehow I seem fixated on bathroom/backstage scenes, anyway





	

“I’m sorry…” 

He lowered the phone from his ear and pushed “end call”. His hands curled into fists but no matter how much he squeezed, his nails digging into his palm, no matter how much he tried holding his breath, his chest tightened all the same and the tears were unstoppable. 

He wished the ground would just open beneath his feet and swallow him up. What a damn disaster… How can something hurt as much as this? How could he be _such_ a failure? How can he disappoint _everybody_ around him at the _same_ damned time?! How could he mess up so bad? 

He knew he shouldn’t be crying in the toilet. Anybody could come in any minute, and he could embarrass himself even more, which would truly be an achievement after what he’d done on the ice… But these thoughts only made him feel worse, and the bathroom kept echoing his muffled sobs. 

Nobody else was to blame, really. He alone was at fault, he alone was weak, pathetic, a miserable no one who wore his dreams on his sleeve and then dropped them. He just fucking dropped them, because only an idiot would have had those dreams in the first place, _of course_ they were going to slip through his fingers, they were too big for him anyway. He should have seen this coming, and if he was honest with himself… he did. Many times. That didn’t mean it hurt any less to face the truth. 

He believed in himself… no, he catered to some stupid fantasy for five minutes and look what happened. 

He felt the dull pain from the falls rising in his hips and legs, and he wished for it to be stronger, to devour him, to eat him up because if he does it to himself… Fatigue crawled under his skin, creeping its way into his bones, and he was ready to slide off of the toilet seat and onto the floor, because he wanted to be smaller, unnoticeable, maybe if he hugged his knees close to his chest it would help hold his shattered self in one piece… Just until he gets home, so no one sees… 

Knock, knock, knock. 

_Oh god oh GOD -_

He gathered himself as quickly as he could. He wiped his face with one hand and pocketed his phone with the other. With a last sniff, he adjusted his glasses and opened the door, apologizing a second time, just because he felt like he had to. For something, always. 

“Yuuri?” 

He gasped and stumbled backwards in horror. Viktor Nikiforov was standing in front of him, searching his face with wide, concerned eyes. He even tilted his head a bit, his silver fringe sweeping to the side, making his whole face more visible – and more unbelievable. 

Yuuri’s heart sank as he covered his mouth to conceal the sound he’d just made – in vain, since his idol has already seen him, heard him, and now he was here pitying him… But he also saw, peeking over his fingers, that he was reaching towards him, as if he were worried that he was going to fall. As if _one more of that_ mattered. _No one reached out to catch me on the ice… to keep me on my feet… What are you even doing here..._

“Can I help?” 

He never heard him sound so… soft, so uncertain. Viktor Nikiforov was confidence on legs, well, on blades. He belonged in the spotlight outside, swarmed with a bunch of people, not backstage and alone. Yes, he definitely shouldn’t be here right now, his only company a loser like him who is whimpering like an abandoned animal. Yuuri looked at him and somehow he was growing desperately hopeful.

_Yes. Yes, you can, help me, god damn it, help me, that’s what I want, I really really do, actually…_

Viktor waited, his palm still open, offering. And with a hasty step forward, Yuuri embraced the tall man’s waist, crushed their chests together and started crying again, resting his forehead on Viktor’s shoulder. 

He let out a tiny, surprised sound, but it was amazing how his whole body reacted to the hug immediately. He slid his arms firm around Yuuri’s shoulders, comforting him with small strokes on his back. He bowed his head, touching his cheekbone to Yuuri’s hair, and he kept his breathing slow and steady to be as calming a presence as possible. While his fellow skater’s sobs shook the both of them, he muttered kind nonsense to him in a deep, low voice.

“Shhh, it’s alright. It’s alright. Come on. You sweet young mess, it’s okay. Shhh…” 

Easier said than done, Yuuri thought to himself. Of course it’s okay, but for whom? _You gold medalist bastard… I have nothing. And You, of all people, are here with me, close to me, and I don’t want to let you go…_

Yuuri knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that all of this was surreal, but he didn’t care anymore. He clutched Viktor’s tracksuit harder, weeping with uneven breaths and burning eyes. 

It all could have gone so differently. They would be standing just as close, but on the podium. He could have shown Viktor who he is. He could have introduced himself: look at me, notice me, I’ve been your fan since I was a kid, now here I am! _Not sixth… but second, or third… I deserve a place next to you, I worked for it all my life! … And I blew it…_

_I worshipped you so much that I… I named my…_

Shame was the only thing left in him. There was nothing else to lose, so he decided to hang onto his sanity just a little longer, and started talking.

“I fai…” he voice broke, but he swallowed and went on before Viktor could interrupt, although he seemed like a good listener. “I failed the ones I love the most.” 

He drew two long, shaky breaths before he could say the rest out loud. 

“My… my dog just died. I wasn’t there for him…”

Viktor’s instant response was to hug him tighter, making Yuuri squeeze his eyes shut. 

“I’m so sorry, Yuuri.” 

“And I wasn’t there for… with you either… On the podium… I really wanted to, I’m just never there, anywhere…” 

“Shhh…” 

He felt long fingers slipping into his hair. Viktor leaned back just enough to see his face; he removed his glasses and planted a kiss right next to Yuuri’s eye, cutting short the stream of tears. 

“You are here,” he whispered. “You are one of the six Grand Prix finalists, and I would give all my gold medals just to see you skate so passionately one more time.” 

Yuuri looked up, his shaking gone, his shoulders relaxing as Viktor rested his hands on them, looking at him with the fondest smile he’s ever seen on the man’s face. He wondered what was so strange about it, and his mind screamed when he realized: it wasn’t fake. 

“Yes, I watched you. I saw your program last year, too, and the previous year at Four Continents… I saw your junior debut with Lohengrin. And…" Viktor almost seemed like he was at a loss of words. He took a deep breath and blurted out: "Please, don’t go anywhere. You’re amazing. I’d love to skate with… against you more.” 

Yuuri let out such a long sigh as if he was freed from tons of weight off his soul. _What the actual hell. He truly is a legend. What a worthy idol. What a kind man._ He hugged him again so swiftly and tightly he heard him gasp, no, _laugh_. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled to his collarbone. He wanted to say it a thousand times, but his anxiety betrayed him, and the voice in his head urged that this much affection was probably enough for the Russian. He stepped back, lowering his arms. “The interviewers will probably be looking for you now.” 

Viktor chuckled with a wide smile, and he put his glasses back on for him, carefully placing it on his nose and sliding the temples over his ears, gently stroking his hair back with his fingers in the process. 

“Let’s go together.”

He reached down to lace their fingers together, watching his response, and Yuuri couldn’t help but smile too. Some sort of courage poured back into him from Viktor's touches, even if he was blushing. He nodded sincerely, as if they were going on a mission.

“I’m ready.”


End file.
